


Blame Where it Belongs

by murderbunny



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 00:29:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15718203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murderbunny/pseuds/murderbunny
Summary: The Eddisian Minister of War may have a stressful job, but that's nothing to what he comes home to every day.





	Blame Where it Belongs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Drollittle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drollittle/gifts).



Eyes filled with sleep, the Eddisian Minister of War opened the door to his house. On the other side stood an irate man, one of his fellow ministers, Xephros. After a befuddled moment, he opened the door wider, motioning Xephros inside.  
“What is it? Is the king well?” Xephros fluttered his hands. “What? Oh, yes, yes, the king is fine. This isn’t official.” 

At this the Minister of War sighed, grasping the meaning. He led Xephros through the quiet hallways and into his office. He sat, motioning for his companion to do the same. A single large candle sat on the desk, lending dim light to the room. “What did he do this time?” “My best fibula pin, the one with rubies and turquoise. Not only that, but all of my songbirds are missing as well.”  
“Songbirds. I don’t know why any of this surprises me. He’s not even ten winters, and he’s nearly his mother’s equal.”  
Xephros folded his arms across his chest, accepting the glass of wine offered him. “Yes, yes, very impressive. I wouldn’t mind as much if it was just the pin, but he can have no idea how to properly care for birds, especially varieties such as mine. My wife is extremely upset, Petrus, and that makes me miserable.” “Of course. I’ll speak to him, in the morning, if that’s acceptable.” “I suppose. Do have him bring the birds back as soon as may be. They have a particular type of seed; won’t eat anything else.”

Petrus stood, ushering Xephros out. He was resigned to things like this. One of the effects of being married to the Queen Thief, daughter of the King’s Thief. After he had seen his fellow minister out with all the attendant pleasantries, he plodded back to his and Zoe's room, sliding into bed beside her. She turned over, half asleep and raised an eyebrow. “What was that about? Palace business?” He stuck his cold feet under her legs and slid an arm around her shoulders. “No. Your youngest son is causing trouble again. I told you naming him Eugenides was asking for trouble.” Zoe smiled, remembering his objections. “Even if he was names Hermanis, he would still be what he is. What did you say he stole? “Xephros is missing his fibula pin, as well as his prize songbirds.” Zoe laughed out loud. “Songbirds? Gen managed to steal seven birds?” “I have to work with these men, I don’t appreciate having to return their possessions every time Gen takes a dislike to their fashion or animals.” “Well, will morning be soon enough to talk to our miscreant?” “I suppose it will have to be”, Petrus muttered, reaching over to blow out the candle. As he drifted off he could swear he heard the faint rustling of feathers somewhere overhead. 

The next morning, he hauled Gen out of bed nearly before the sun had passed the horizon. He dragged his offspring into his office, ignoring his protestations. His son would talk the ears off a goat if the goat stood still long enough. “Minister Xephros stopped in last night. Gen, you can’t just take things for the sake of it.”“I have not the faintest inkling what you’re referring to”, the boy drawled, propping his feet on the desk. He pulled an orange out of his pocked and methodically peeled it. Petrus’ eyes narrowed. So it would be like this, hmm? “Gen, where were you yesterday?" “At the palace, with Helen. We practiced at swords, then stole Boagus’ clothes while he was in the bathhouse. I was here for supper and playing at Cones and Nuts with Stenides until bed. My bedroom has no windows large enough for me, and if I had tried to sneak out, I would have had to go right past your study and bedroom.” “The problem is, you’re a suspect, and from what I can tell, the most likely one. Just admit it. I’ll have the birds back to him before long, and the pin as well, if you haven’t sold it. With luck, he won’t refuse to work with me because you couldn’t keep your thieving hands to yourself.” Gen sat bolt upright, indignant. He spluttered for a minute, then collected himself.  
“I have evidence of where I was. And anyway, I liked his fibula pin, even if Mother did say that it clashed horribly. She has no idea of fashion. You can search my room all you like.” Petrus’ eyes sharpened. He leaned forward, arms folded on the desk.  
“Your mother disliked the pin? What was her opinion on the songbirds?”

Gen looked even more displeased but answered readily enough. “She said that if they kept screeching during her work at the palace, she, and these are her exact words, sir “would not be held responsible for her actions.” Petrus fell back in his chair, massaging his eyebrows. He waved a hand at Gen. “You’re dismissed. Go practice with your sword, maybe the army will make something of you, if you focus.” Gen scampered out, brushing against his father. After gathering his courage, Petrus followed. He knew exactly where Zoe would be, she always broke her fast in the garden. Sure enough, she was sitting at a small table, peeling her own orange, a smug smile on her face. He sat down across from her. 

“So, so, so. You would let Gen take the fall?” Zoe laughed. “I knew it wouldn’t take you long. The pin is already back on his dressing table, and the birds have sadly been sold to a wagon train on its way to Sounis. I figured I could forgive the pin if I didn’t have to listen to those gods cursed birds every day.” Petrus blinked, hardly believing his ears. “How did you manage to get the birds out at all, not to mention sell them off so quickly?“ “Gen told me the other day that birds would stay silent with a cloth over their cage. And the caravan leader knew that Sounis likes his songbirds, and was only too happy to take them.” “Zoe, I promised Xephros I would have them back to him by noon!” “I’m afraid they’re halfway down the mountain by now. You really shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, dear.” “And to think, I suspected Eugenides. I hope he’ll settle down, he’d make an excellent soldier. No such hope for you, I suppose.” He looked at his wife, who barely came to his shoulders, and he was not a tall man. “All the same, I will be glad not to have to listen to those birds.”

He grabbed a fruit, a red one, and his hand went to his belt for a knife. Nothing was there. Zoe smiled, until she checked her own side and found hers missing as well. Their voices rang out together.  
“EUGENIDES!”


End file.
